The Blind Babysitter
by To-MAH-To
Summary: Mag x Pavi. Done for a fan fiction challenge. Mag is forced to babysit young Pavi one night, and after, ends up influencing Pavi as he grows up. Read full summary inside. Rated T for the use of naughty words.


**The Blind Babysitter**

_**Full Summary:**__ Blind Mag, the star of GeneCo, wasn't always as respected as she wished. One night, due to circumstances, Rotti asks her to babysit Pavi. The story follows key events in Pavi's life which affect him as an adult, all the way until Mag's death at the opera house. ((Pairing: Bling Mag x Pavi))_

_And just as a warning, the ages are purposefully messed up. Amber is actually supposed to be the youngest, Pavi is in the middle, and Luigi is the eldest. That, and there is supposed to be five-year age differences between all of them. ((So Amber would be 5 at the time Pavi was 10 and Luigi would be 15.)) But, incidentally, the age differences between Mag and Pavi are almost correct in this. There is a 9 year age difference between Pavi and Mag. ((All information taken from MySpace and official Repo! Forums.))_

_Another warning. I don't write Pavi's accent well. So… You'll have to imagine it!_

"Paviche!" Rotti bellowed out the name as if it were a curse word. "Damn it all, get your ass _out here_!"

"Yes, Father!" the ten-year-old boy hopped out the front door and towards the limousine. He was dressed in black pants, and was wearing a dark red shirt. His hair fell down to his shoulders in fluffy strands, surrounding his head like a dark cloud. His face was unblemished and beautiful, almost feminine in appearance.

Amber huffed in the seat. "I don't know why we _have_ to go see Mag perform. It's not like she's anything great. I can't even understand what she's _saying_." Amber had long, curly blond hair and stark blue eyes. She was dressed in a flowery white dress, something her father had picked out for her. She was currently 15, and just beginning to feel any sort of freedom from her father.

"Because Mag represents our family, and GeneCo itself. You'll understand when you're older."

"Why isn't Luigi coming?"

"Luigi is being punished for stabbing the maid with his fork. She's fine, but I won't tolerate that behavior."

"Luigi doesn't like the room you leave him in when he's in trouble…" Pavi attempted to argue in his brother's defense. He didn't spend much time with his older brother, but when he was with his two siblings, Luigi kept Amber from whining.

"Would you like to stay with him?"

Pavi shook his head.

"I'd like to stay behind," Amber huffed again. "You didn't say **I** could stay behind."

"That's because you can't," Rotti mumbled back.

"Why?"

"It's… inappropriate." As Amber was 15, and Luigi was 18, and Amber and Luigi had always had a strange camaraderie that bordered on dangerous, Rotti didn't leave them alone together.

"How is it inappropriate?" Pavi tilted his head in curiosity.

"Gosh, Pavi, you're so fucking stupid sometimes," Amber snapped.

Rotti spat out the words, "Language!" and Amber turned her head to the side, focusing her gaze on the car's window.

"I… don't get it," Pavi mumbled.

"Good. You'll get it when you're older," Rotti shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and all conversation came to a halt.

They finally arrived at the opera house just a few minutes before Mag was due to sing. Rotti sat in between Amber and Pavi, which Pavi was grateful for. Amber's whining could ruin what he considered to be the most beautiful performance he'd ever seen. They didn't even reserve boxes anymore because Pavi wanted to sit up front, so close that he was only a few feet away from Mag.

When Mag walked onstage, Pavi's eyes lit up. She was so young and vibrant—just a girl of about twenty or so. She had just lost her best friend, and Pavi's father was highly upset about that as well, but Pavi couldn't place why.

The voice of the angels fell in lilting tones from her mouth, as she sung her soul out to the audience. Pavi leaned forward in his seat as Amber fidgeted in hers. Rotti sat completely still, taking in the performance but barely processing its meaning.

She was singing in Italian, and Pavi immediately wished to know the language. It sounded so beautiful to him that he couldn't help but want to know what she was singing about. His father had mentioned that the song was about being blinded, but Pavi still didn't quite grasp the meaning.

"Dad, I'm going to be sick," Amber muttered. Pavi spared her a second's worth of a glance, and she did appear to be honestly green in the face.

"We're going straight home after this," his father promised.

"But _Daddy_, I'm going to throw up!" she hissed.

"Baby, look, it's only for a short while…"

"Daddy!" she whined in such a pitiful voice that Rotti finally broke. Mag's first song finished, and Rotti signaled for her to come to him. With an exasperated look at her audience, she did as he bid her to do.

"I have to take Amber home. I'll send another driver to bring you and Pavi back to my house. You'll babysit Pavi while I take Amber to the hospital and pick her brother up from his isolation room."

"My job is to sing, not to babysit!" Mag muttered.

"Your job is whatever I _say_ your job is. If I say you are to babysit my son for only a night, then you'll do it. And besides, Pavi is the well-behaved child. You won't get stabbed by him."

Mag bit her lip in anger, but she conceded. Rotti and Amber left together, leaving Pavi behind. He could finally express his true feelings, feelings repressed by Rotti's strict control of his actions and emotions.

When the concert was over, Pavi stood, cheering and clapping until his throat was hoarse and his hands stung from the pain. Because of him, everyone stood, and gave Mag her first standing ovation.

Pavi paused in his cheering, and reached deep into his pockets. He'd been late because he was picking dandelions from the side of their house. He grabbed the five that were still relatively intact and threw them onstage.

Mag smiled sweetly at him, and though others were throwing beautiful red roses, she picked up his dandelions and held them in her hands, as if they were a bride's bouquet.

The ride home was quiet. Mag stared into the blackness of the tinted window, clutching a large dark purse, while Pavi fiddled with his hands, unsure of what to say. He was a nervous child, and had had very little positive human interaction. All of his interaction came from his whining sister, his bullying brother, his overbearing father, and his robotic nurses and nannies.

"Mag?" he finally whispered, halfway on the way home to his house.

"Yes, Pavi?" her voice was shaky. He had only heard that tone of voice from his sister Amber, when she was actually upset, and that had been once—the time Luigi screamed that he hated her and thought she was ugly.

"Are you okay?" his voice was worried now, not unsure.

She turned to him. Pavi had never seen her look so different before. Her mascara and eyeliner were smudgy, and black streaks of makeup were running down her cheeks. Lines where tears had been left discolored streaks of coloring on her cheeks, and her lips were quivering. "I'm sorry, Pavi, but every time I see your father now, I think of…"

"Your friend?"

Mag nodded.

"No one tells me anything. Why do you think of your friend when you see my dad? What did one have to do with the other?"

"My friend was almost your new mom, but she fell in love with someone else."

"Did she love my dad?"

"I think she cared for him, but in the end, she knew she loved the man she married. He was a surgeon," Mag looked down at her gloved hands. She thought for a moment, and flipped up her lacy shawl over her head. She tied it in a way that the shawl covered her face when she tilted her head down far enough.

The limo pulled to a stop outside of the Largo mansion. They had multiple houses, at moved at Rotti's or Amber's whim. The one they had been living in for the past four months was styled with turrets, columns, dormers and so many staircases that Pavi spent the first week there just exploring.

Mag walked swiftly out of the car, and was at the front door as Pavi's feet hit the floor. Mag kept her head turned to the door, waiting for the door to be answered by one of the Largo house guards or cleaners. Pavi practically bounded across the yard in order to get closer to Mag.

"Don't you have any nannies or bodyguards that could babysit you?" Mag asked, her voice still shaky.

"Not really. My nannies are always so busy trying to keep Luigi under control, and trying to appease Amber. The bodyguards let me do whatever I want, just as long as I don't hurt myself, and my dad doesn't like that. I'm sorry you're stuck with me."

"It's not like I have anything better to do," Mag's voice took on a dark, almost sarcastic tone. However, she meant what she said—the only thing she had done with her free time before was sing and spend time with Marni, and now that Marni was dead, all she had left was singing.

"I'm sorry about your friend. I can't… What's death like?"

"Death… death is like falling into a quiet sleep, where no one can reach you. Sometimes your body doesn't want to fall into the sleep, or sometimes it seems like it's too early. But the sleep comes to everyone, eventually," she had just finished her sentiment when the door swung open, revealing a very buff bodyguard in leather pants and a tight t-shirt, one of Amber's favorites.

Mag strode into the house, and immediately sat at the table in the room adjacent to the foyer, which was one of the dining rooms or guest entertaining areas. She opened up her purse, taking out a large mirror.

"Pavi? Pavi, could you hold this for me?" she asked. Pavi nodded quickly, and began running toward her.

"No running. Walk, like a gentleman," one of the elder maids said.

"Yes, ma'am," Pavi mumbled, and began walking instead of running. Mag's eyes didn't turn from white to pink anymore, but her face seems puffed, and her eyelids were drooping. But she spared Pavi a small smile when he was chastised for his running.

"Hold it up like this," she instructed, putting it in front of her face for him to hold for her. She pulled out makeup wipes from her bag, and began wiping everything off of her face. It took three of them to get all of the black off of her face, and another one to get the rest of the foundation off of her skin.

She began applying her makeup, and each time she picked up something new, Pavi asked her what it was and what it was for. She explained everything in detail as she applied it and showed him everything she used to apply her makeup. When she put the final touches of lipstick and a slight coating of lip gloss, Pavi asked if she could make him look pretty, too.

"Pavi, this makeup is mostly for females…" Pavi pouted. "Well, at any rate, you don't need makeup to make yourself look beautiful. You have naturally lovely skin, and a perfect facial structure. Aside from that, your father probably wouldn't approve."

"Well, thanks for showing me what it was you were doing, anyway," Pavi replied, giving up the fight for makeup.

"So, what do you want to do?" Mag asked, as she finished putting up the makeup.

"What was your song about? Father hasn't gotten around to teaching me Italian yet…"

"It was about a girl who was innocent and pure, until she met a man that she fell in love with. They loved each other deeply, or so it seemed. And then, one day, the girl saw the man with someone else. She prayed to the gods that she hadn't ever seen it, and the gods granted her wish by blinding her."

"Really? It sounded so pretty when you were singing it…"

"I was singing in Italian, and everything sounds pretty in Italian. Like your name, for example. Paviche. It's a very nice name," Mag complimented him.

"Can you teach me Italian? Well, some?"

"Can you promise me you won't give it up, like Luigi did, and you'll love the language?" Mag asked, leaning forward and whispering the question, as if it were a sacred pact.

"Yes!" Pavi agreed.

"Can you promise me you'll love Italian so much you'll practically have the accent?"

"Yep!"

"Well, okay, let's start with 'Hello,'" Mag began.

The night drug on for hours, and Pavi learned Italian quickly. Mag promised to drop off a few English-Italian dictionaries and some of her translated songs. They heard Rotti, Luigi, and Amber enter the door.

"Mag, remember what you said earlier about the kissing?" Pavi asked.

"Yes," Mag said, as she helped Pavi pack away the papers they had used for study.

"Father doesn't let me talk to many girls. I was wondering… could you be my first kiss?"

"Pavi, that's kind of… I'm twice your age, dear."

"I don't mind! You're the prettiest girl I know."

"You're going to be a charmer, aren't you?"

"Please?"

Mag sighed, and leaned down. She kissed him on the forehead quickly, and turned away. If Rotti saw any such signs of affection… She wasn't sure if he'd arrange a marriage between the two or have her killed.

"Thanks, Mag," Pavi grinned from ear to ear.

"Thanks for what?" Luigi spat as he strode into the room, taking quick glances at the papers Mag and Pavi had used.

"Teaching me Italian. She's a good teacher. Maybe you wouldn't have…"

"Don't say _shit_, brother, because you don't know about _anything_," Luigi raised his hand to slap him across the face. Mag grabbed his wrist quickly.

"Don't hurt your brother."

"I'll… I'll tell me dad," Luigi growled, snatching his wrist away.

"Go ahead. Tell your father that you were about to smack your brother and I stopped you. I might get reprimanded, but you'll go back to the room. Is it worth it?"

Luigi growled, and stormed off.

Mag sat down with a sigh, and shuffled through more of the papers.

"Mag?" Pavi asked.

"Yes Pavi? I'm kind of worn out, so…" she turned her head towards Pavi, and he quickly kissed her on the lips, and dashed away.

Mag smirked, and shook her head slowly. "Maybe _too much_ of a charmer," she finally agreed.

***

Six years later, Pavi had grown into a young man of sixteen. He had been studying Italian since he was 10, and he spoke only Italian when he was at home.

His sister was still living on Largo property, but she was now a woman of twenty-one, and living just as she pleased. Her platinum blond hair had been dyed black and had so many chemicals added to it that it was perfectly straight. Her corneas had been replaced with eyes of a darker pupil, and her body had undergone so much surgery that she was now 'genetically perfect.' She had even changed her last name to Sweet.

Luigi's temper had peaked into an uncontrollable rage. He had had surgery, too, but his surgery had been necessary. His lungs had failed when he was twenty-two, and he had to have organ transplants. Because it had been an emergency, the surgery wasn't cosmetic at all. Luigi had decided not to fix his scars, however, because they made him look more intimidating. He was now twenty-four.

The three siblings and Blind Mag were walking through the halls to have a talk with Rotti. Amber had been asking Mag when she was going to quit, and if Amber could have her act for the umpteenth time. Finally, it ended in Amber yelling, "That's it! I'm taking it up with Daddy!" As Mag was a participant in the argument, she had to join Amber. Luigi and Pavi were just there for the entertainment factor.

"Ciao, sorella! State osservando bello quanto mai! Come le lezioni di canto sono andato?" he walked up to his sister, and just to annoy her and his brother, he threw an arm around Amber's shoulders.

"Pavi, get off of me!" she screamed, shoving him aside.

"All I said was, "Hello, seester! Looking beautiful as always! How did your singing lessons go?" he had acquired the Italian accent from speaking Italian nearly constantly at home, and now it was so ingrained in him that it was practically natural.

"Parlate in modo bello Italiano," Mag whispered to Pavi. Pavi smiled.

"I-a thank you," he gave her a slight bow.

"Why the _fuck_ do they have to speak in _fucking_ Italian so much?" Luigi screamed.

"You're just pissed off because you're the only one who doesn't know it," Amber smirked.

***

A year later, Rotti scheduled Pavi for his first facial surgery. He had had slight acne as a young teenager, and Rotti wanted his son's face replaced to cover up the acne scars. However, the doctor who was going to do the face transplant messed up when he attempted to graft Pavi's new face on top of the mutilated skin. Pavi's face became so mutilated that the damage was irreparable.

He became inconsolable, and sank into a depressive rage so deep that no one in his family could go near him, especially Rotti. Every time he would try, Pavi would scream about how it was his fault and how he would have been better off being anyone else's son.

Rotti finally gave up on visiting his son himself, so he began sending in Mag.

"Hello, Paviche," Mag said from the door. Pavi was laying on his bed, his back turned to the door. "Can I talk to you? Can you turn around, please? So that we can speak?"

"You want to laugh at my face," Pavi growled, being careful to not use an accent of any sort. He was subconsciously emulating his elder brother in tone and bitterness.

"No, I don't. Pavi… You know I wouldn't do anything so cruel, don't you?"

"Everyone else is suddenly so cruel. Maybe you're the same."

"Maybe I'm different."

"Fine! You want to see what the 'new Pavi' is, take a good look! See what my father has done to me?" Pavi screamed, finally turned towards Mag.

"You know, it isn't fair. Your elder sister, the brat, has had countless surgeries, and she's never been surgically botched. Your face… I think you looked fine, even with the slight blemishes. Your father shouldn't have forced you into the surgery. I won't make excuses for him, because there is none."

Pavi was breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists, up until she said that. His pose loosened a little, and his fists became hands again.

"You know… You remember when you were ten, and I showed you my makeup?"

"Makeup isn't going to help this," he was still being careful not to use his accent as he gestured at his face.

"Makeup is a mask. Perhaps your father can invest in a mask more beautiful than any normal face. It will be a fake face, but that's all this beauty is."

"Your beauty, my-a lady, is not a fake one," he said, no speaking in his usual lilting, accented voice.

Mag smiled, and kissed his cheek. "Neither is yours, Pavi."

Pavi stood there, dumbstruck, as Mag left the room. He touched his cheek where Mag had kissed. It hurt to touch his face, but the kiss had been so soft that his face didn't seem to feel the pain of Mag's touch.

She had kissed his mutilated face.

"Mag… I want a face as beautiful as yours someday," Pavi whispered.

***

I would like to say that this story has a happy ending. But everyone knows the rest of the story. Being in such a corrupt family, Pavi couldn't stay pure for much longer. He became obsessed with masks, at first. He soon realized that no mask was as beautiful as the face of a pretty girl.

And that's when the face-stealing began.

As for Pavi being a man-slut, that came naturally to him. His voice, his fame, and the romantic way he spoke Italian made it all too easy for Pavi to talk girls out of their panties.

Mag couldn't spend time with him as she had when he was younger, because there was no cause for it. Mag was no longer his Italian tutor, but simply his father's employee.

But years later, when Mag was forty-one and Pavi was thirty-one, Pavi still felt a profound loss when she died at the opera. He had known it was coming for nearly weeks, but somehow, he didn't feel prepared.

_Under the mask, he cried for Mag, but not for his own father that night._


End file.
